


Leaning Tower of Pizza

by Dawnwind



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky needs to go on a diet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaning Tower of Pizza

T  
"My doctor said I put on ten pounds!" Starsky looked down at his naked body. His belly had a slight convex curve, but Hutch thought it was a marked improvement over the completely concave belly of a year ago after the shooting.

"So you get a larger size jeans." Hutch shrugged, pulling on his slacks. If they were a little bit more snug than they once were when he zipped the fly, he didn't sweat it. He sweated the early morning jogs, the weight lifting at Vinnie's and the substitution of whole milk on his breakfast granola for skimmed much more. "You look great to me." He leered like a pervert on a street corner, although Starsky was the one who was flashing his wiener. "In fact, if you don't put something on in under ten minutes, not only will we be late for work but I'll have to arrest you for indecent exposure."

"Why?" Starsky continued to examine his body, pushing on his abdomen as if he could shove the offending paunch back inside his body. "Nobody else can see me."

"So now I'm nobody?" Hutch pretended to be highly insulted and tossed one of Starsky's disreputable sneakers at him.

"Nah." Starsky's grin was all mischievous lechery. He looked Hutch up and down, licking his lips. "You're somebody, all right. And if I didn't have to get to work right this minute, I'd throw you down on that bed and . . ."

"Starsky!" Hutch warned, raising a stiff forefinger. How did that rascal make it sound like Hutch was the one delaying them?

Starsky could dress remarkably fast, Hutch had always admired that about him. He skimmed on his jeans in under thirty seconds, closing the buttons on the fly without a struggle, which was admirable when he wore them skin tight. And if there were ten extra pounds on that compact, delectable body, Hutch didn't mind at all.

_What was the saying? More to love?_

"I'll have to change my diet," Starsky declared, his voice a bit muffled for the few seconds the t-shirt was over his face. He tugged it down, revealing the logo for the Rolling Stones, a big, full lipped mouth.

"That's great, Starsk! I could give you some tips on healthier eating," Hutch said eagerly. He'd always hoped that Starsky would see the error of his ways and develop a better diet. "The Good Earth on Hawthorne has a great section of natural cereals and whole grain pastas. You'd love . . . "

"Not that healthy crap you eat!" Starsky grimaced, pulling on the laces of his sneakers. "That's just rabbit food. What I need is a balanced meal, all the four food groups, like they teach you in school."

"Very true," Hutch agreed, but he had a strange suspicion that they were not talking about the same thing. It was a common enough occurrence with the two of them, even on the best of days.

"Pizza," Starsky said, snapping on his gun holster. "It's the perfect food, Hutch, it really is!"

"Starsky!" He paused while shrugging into his own holster straps. "Pizza is high in fat . . ."

"No, you don't get it!" Starsky sketched a round circle in the air. "Bread--y'know, grain? Cheese which is the dairy, meat--I'll give ya that pepperoni is high in fat."

"Thank you," Hutch said, glad Starsky had listened to something he'd said.

"So, chicken would be okay," Starsky conceded. "And tomato sauce for the vegetable."

"A tomato is a fruit," Hutch put in tonelessly. Starsky would never learn. "So is an avocado."

"Hey." Starsky beamed. "Learn something new every day! I like guacamole. That might make a good pizza topping. Have to think about it--with some chiles? You think?" He grabbed his blue nylon windbreaker and held open the door. "C'mon, Hutch, what're you dawdling for? We'll be late."

"Just contemplating death by pizza." Hutch could envision his arteries hardening at the very thought of such a thing.

"The Starsky diet!" Starsky said proudly. He obviously had not heard Hutch at all. "Breakfast pizza with eggs and cheese on a toasty crust. Then the chicken pizza for lunch. And for dinner, the avocado and chiles, with chorizo sprinkled on top."

"Starsky, that's a sausage."

"Yeah, but I'm cutting down on sausage--so once a day won't kill me." Starsky was practically skipping as he rounded the Torino. "I can't wait. Let's stop at Tony's Pizzeria on the way to Metro. Just two slices per meal and the weight will slip right off."

"Something's going to slip off, but I'm betting on my sanity."

End--


End file.
